History is never quite as real as when it is told by those who lived it. Ruby Thompson, living during the World War ll London Blitz bombing blasts history out of the realm of dry, dusty names and dates and places the reader in the midst of the terrifying events as they unfold. This is very important documentation and will have tremendous appeal to those who have an avid interest in the effect of the war on ordinary citizens.

About Me

World War ll London Blitz: Buy On SmashwordsI am the great-granddaughter of Ruby Side Thompson.

Recently I started re-reading the World War ll journals and felt that they were such an important part of a history that will soon be forgotten if not published and shared with the world. These diary excerpts are not the entirety of what is published in print and kindle.

Ruby grew up during a time when education was just beginning to be encouraged for both upper and middle class women. During the late 1890's Ruby explored many radical political ideas of London, England. She met many famous people including the writers George Bernard Shaw and William Butler Yeats.

5.0 out of 5 stars A choice pick, not to be overlooked, November 6, 2011 By Midwest Book Review (Oregon, WI USA)

September 1, 1939War started today. After another week of lies and
duplicity, Hitler launched into actual warfare early this
morning. At five thirty this morning he announced the
enclosure of Danzig in the Reich, and at five forty-five
he bombed his first Polish town. Reports were that the
Germans had already bombed eight Polish cities, and
were attacking on all frontiers.
The BBC has just announced that King George
held a Privy Council this noon, and has signed papers
completing the mobilization of our Army, Navy, and Air
Forces. Further news is to be broadcast at four p.m.September 3, 1939At eleven fifteen today Mr. Chamberlain broadcast
from number Ten Downing Street. He said, This morning
the British Ambassador in Berlin handed the German
government a final note stating that, unless we heard
from them by eleven o’clock, that they were prepared at
once to withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war
would exist between us.
I have to tell you that no such undertaking has been
received, and that consequently this country is at war
with Germany. He ended his speech like this: Now may
God bless you all. May he defend the right. It is the evil
things that we shall be fighting against, brute force, bad faith, injustice, oppression and persecution, and against
them I am certain that the right will prevail.

He had scarcely finished speaking when the air
raid signals sounded. Naturally we all took cover. About
twelve o’clock the all-clear signal came. We thought it
had been the Germans, of course; but in tonight’s news
we were told, that it was a strange aircraft, which had
been sighted over the Channel, and that when it had
been identified, it was found to be a friendly plane, and
allowed to pass.
However, the warnings were a shock. It was such a
beautiful day, sunny and with clear skies. At five o’clock
the French government broadcast a similar statement to
Mr. Chamberlain, saying they had no reply from Hitler
and that as of five o’clock the French were at war with
Germany.
So here is the war. We have been fending it off for
years, but at last it is here. The folly of men is now going
to destroy men. Force will fight force. Maybe the right
will prevail. I don’t know. I can only hope so. God keep
us all!
September 4, 1939In the middle of the night we were wakened from
sleep by the air raid sirens. We got up, closed all the
windows, put on our robes and went downstairs. Here
we remained in the passage by the staircase until the
all-clear signal came, about four o’clock. The kitchen
clock struck three whilst I was waking Artie. However,
we were informed at nine this morning that this was
again caused by the passage of unidentified aircraft over
Essex and the midland counties; our fighters went up,
identified the airplane and then returned to ground. We
are not told exactly what planes they were or why they
were flying over England at three in the morning.

Real news of war came early. The Atlantic Liner
“Athena” was torpedoed off the west of the Hebrides,
and sank at five o’clock this morning. She had fourteen
hundred people aboard, most of them Americans
returning home. She was from Glasgow, bound for
Montreal. Now, noon, we are informed that a notice has
been posted in Glasgow, signed, Cook, Master, stating
that all passengers and crew, except those killed by the
explosion, were got safely into the boats, and many of
them had already been picked up by other vessels. President Roosevelt broadcast in the States last night that
America would stay neutral. However, if the Germans
attack the Americans on the seas, what then? It is eight-thirty p.m. and I am in a blaze of anger.
At seven o’clock Ted said, I’m going down to Forest
Gate, to see what traveling is like in the dark. He went
too! Now, all lights are forbidden, all cinemas closed, all
gatherings, indoor, and outside, prohibited, because of
the danger from bombs. No lights in the trains or the
buses, no lights in automobiles. Ted has to go to Forest
Gate to see his precious guild of course, his pious and
adoring spinsters and oafs. Well, it may be fine Catholic
piety, but its damned bad husbandry. All around many
women are ill and hysterical, and very bad when the air
raid signals sound. It is nerves and they can’t help it.
What does Ted care about me? It is night, the raiding
signals may be heard at any moment but I am left alone
in the house, to endure it as best I can. The Catholic
Evidence Guild is of very great importance to Ted, but I
am of no importance at all. This heartlessness at a time
like this fills me with dismay. I cannot believe he would
act so, yet he does. He goes off on his own pleasuring,
danger or no danger; and I am left alone, danger or no
danger.
Anyhow I am in a fretful mood, and have been, all this time of gathering tension. I think of Cuthie, who is
surely going to immediate death and of Artie who will
follow him. I think of my boys in America, who I cannot
reach and their children whom I have never seen. In my
heart I am crying and crying. The lot my husband has
imposed upon me is a cruel one. He has denuded me
of my children, and of himself as lover and friend. Now
he leaves me to face terror alone, as well as desolation.
I know there may be no raid before he returns but the
chances are equal there may be. I say he has no right to
leave me alone at such a time. It is a cruel thing to do.
It hurts me and it angers me, and I feel I shall never
forgive him. But I suppose I shall! What is there else to
do? I have to excuse him I say he is crazy. I am angry
just the same, very angry. He has no business to treat
me like this, with such callousness. Loving kindness,
he just doesn’t know what it is ordinary friendliness, he
doesn’t know that either. As Eddie says, He’s not human.

September 10, 1939The war has now completed one week. All week the
weather has been perfect. All summer it has been very
poor, no warmth, nor sun, nor brightness at all. Now it
has cleared up and we have had more sun and warmth
and clearness in this past week than in all the rest of the
summer put together. A good thing too for it has kept
people’s spirits up. It is hard to be melancholy in perfect
weather.
The Germans, of course, are over-running Poland,
that was to be expected. There are reports they have
taken Warsaw and counter-reports that they haven’t, but
it is not known yet for a fact.
Old Bert has closed Arden Cottage and gone to live
in Ongar. So have Bertie and Peggy. Bertie comes into
business every day, but not old Bert. He is scared stiff.

Ted behaves as usual, and he goes to mass every morning.
Ted is the complete escapist. Ted is more talkative than ever. I listen and listen,
and I just despise him as a silly fool. Also he is more
critical. He has been criticizing Artie to me for a long time
but now he has begun picking on the boy directly. Artie
answers back. They had a spat together in the scullery
this morning about a pane of picture glass, which after
hanging about the garden for months, had been smashed
and Artie had cleared away the fragments. Today Ted
missed that piece of glass, and gave Artie one of his
typical cross-examinations about it. The boy answered
politely but Ted then began to read him a lecture about
carelessness, about laziness, about impoliteness, about
being brusque, and so on.Artie got riled. He said, I resent those remarks. They
are not true. Ted went on some more.
Artie said, I still resent your remarks. You know that
I am the only one who makes any attempt to clear up the
place here and to keep it neat. I didn’t know you wanted
the glass. It had stood around for weeks and weeks and
you never mentioned it. It got broken. I cleared up the
pieces. Why should I have to tell you? I think your remarks
are uncalled for and unkind.
The word “unkind” got under Ted’s skin. He answered
sarcastically, Thank You, and walked away into the
parlor.
Ted fancy’s an idea of himself as of a benefactor. It’s
all a part of his general interfering “doing well” he calls
it. I’ve endured it for years, over and over again. The
reprobates he dreams he is reforming have cheated me.
Sucker after sucker has found out Ted for a good thing.
He’s never cared. He always thinks the next deserving
case will answer to his interest and charity with reform
and with gratitude. So to tell him he is unkind is too
much for him.

He is unkind. He has a most malicious tongue which
he exercises on all those who can’t or don’t round on
him. Now it’s got to Artie’s turn. Cuthie has got away.
He made Cuthie miserable with his nagging for years
all for Cuthie’s good of course! We said, Hell! Now it’s
Artie that’s wrong. Artie, apparently, is going to answer
back.
Oh, Ted and his moralizing, his sarcasms, his belittling, his sneers, oh, what a disagreeable person he is
to live with! Yet he never suspects it! He thinks and
says that he is broad minded, just, kind, and courteous.
Whereas actually, he is fanatically narrow-minded,
spiteful, mean, secretive, intolerant, and intolerable.
This week he has been awful. I say as little as
possible. Silence is the only way to protect oneself from
him but he makes me feel that I regard him either as an
utter fool, or as a very hateful man.

I don’t want to feel or think like that about him. I
don’t want him to upset me. I want to keep serene. I want
to keep myself. I want to keep free from him, untouched
by his follies, unconfined by his limitations, impervious
by his lack of love, not biased against the truth because
of his peculiar prejudices that is it. I want to be free of
him, inviolate.